


Abilities and Affections

by avani



Category: Persuasion - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-18 06:53:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21740200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avani/pseuds/avani
Summary: “They’ve expelled us!” cried Elizabeth Elliot indignantly to her sister. “From the Kellynch League! All this when Father’s been a member for decades! Worst of all, they’ve inducted some civilian who built themselves a suit out of scrap metal instead.Builtit, Anne!”
Relationships: Anne Elliot/Frederick Wentworth
Comments: 38
Kudos: 129
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Abilities and Affections

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chaosmanor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosmanor/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! I hope you enjoy this!

In the year ’06, Anne Elliot was accounted a young lady with the potential to do quite well for herself. Why should she not? She was the gently-bred second daughter of the superhero Chameleon, and beloved god-daughter to the retired Lady Wonder herself. If her powers, unlike those that her father and elder sister shared, only allowed for disappearance rather than disguise, no one thought the lesser of her for it. At least she had powers at all, unlike her youngest sister Mary. What was more, Anne had the great fortune to be employed as junior journalist at the _Uppercross Gazette._ No other occupation promised to put young ladies and gentlemen so reliably in the way of meeting eligible young heroes, and by no means did Anne prove this prophecy wrong. 

For some months she had enjoyed the acquaintance of the up-and-coming sidekick to the esteemed Captain Worthy, if half-a-dozen rescues from gangsters and scientists and clowns displeased with their lot in life could be termed as such, and eagerly she anticipated forming a more permanent arrangement with him. 

Were it not, that is, for the disapproval of her elders. 

“Talking with fish!” scoffed her father. “Whoever heard of such a lunatic power? What, does he ask them nicely to slap his enemies about the face with their tails?” Any protests Anne made that Frederick was indeed, far more resourceful than her father seemed to believe went unheard. By no means would he countenance an engagement 

Worse yet was the dismay and disapproval of Lady Wonder, known in her civilian identity as Lady Antiope Russell, Honored Ambassador from No Man’s Land. “I understand your feelings, Anne, truly I do. But if I have seen this once, I have seen it a thousand times; the lovers of sidekicks never come to good ends.”

But Frederick would not be a sidekick forever, Anne argued. Of that she was certain. 

“I couldn’t agree more,” allowed Lady Russell. “But whether that should be because he exchanges one mask for another, or ends up a memorial for his mentor to weep over, who can tell? And you, my dear—I want much more for you than to find yourself cut up and crammed into an icebox for Frederick to discover some unhappy day.”

It was a debate Anne was doomed to lose; the connection was severed, and Captain Worthy and his sidekick took themselves off on a mission to outer space. 

“Trust me, my dear,” Lady Russell soothed her silent and sallow god-daughter. “Someday soon you will thank yourself for this.”

*

As it turned out, Anne very much did not.

The first blow was hearing that Captain Worthy had succumbed to a ray gun blow not two months into his interstellar mission, and Frederick, having taken up his mantle, now pursued further training on the ice planet of Enceladus. The second struck far closer to home. Anne—misfortune of misfortunes!—was promoted, her superiors noticing the value of a steady hand, a keen grasp of grammar, and a fondness for the Oxford comma. She was plucked from news desk to editor’s chair, and set to earn her bread by editing the stories of others. Editors, after all, do not embark on adventures; they are to chew their cigars and complain about the damage superheroes bring upon the city. Anne having a taste for neither cigars nor complaints found herself quite at odd ends, and, as was her habit during trying circumstances, allowed her powers to blend her quite into the background. 

When, some years later, her sister Mary took her place on the eventful picnic, complete with dying alien doling out magic rings, that made Mary a founding member of the Musgrove Five, Anne only supposed that she ought to have expected it. 

“You deserve better, Anne,” Lady Russell said sadly, and while Anne could not disagree, nor could she protest. 

*

“They’ve expelled us!” cried Elizabeth Elliot indignantly to her sister. “From the Kellynch League! All this when Father’s been a member for _decades!_ ”

It should perhaps be noted that Elizabeth’s agitation was not due solely to filial piety: rather, having taken up the mantle of Chameleon II some years previous, she felt herself responsible to maintain its —in her mind, and her father’s—lofty reputation, as established by _Debrett’s Annual Ranking of Superheroes_ , et cetera.

“Surely,” Anne replied mildly, “they must have had some reason.” She knew what it was, of course; the newspapers had covered it in detail just the week before.

Elizabeth, though, only waved her hand in dismissal. “Some nonsense about requiring evidence of continued acts of bravery to retain membership. One worldwide disaster averted, or a hundred lives saved a year: as though supervillains could be found growing on trees, Anne!”

“Hmm,” said Anne, praying she sounded sympathetic. 

“And worst of all,” Elizabeth dropped her voice to a whisper, “they’ve inducted some civilian who built themselves a suit out of scrap metal instead. _Built_ it, Anne! Don’t remind Father, he’s still furious, but really there’s nothing to be done.”

“Hmm,” repeated Anne.

“Father means to be long gone by the time this so-called ‘Admiral’ takes her seat in the League. He’s a few contacts in the Bath Society of Justice, you know, and they’ve agreed to allow us to set us up with a residence on their Watchtower. Basic heroic courtesy, you know, and they say they’ve been _aching_ to study our family’s powers.”

“I can’t come,” Anne pointed out. “At least not yet. The _Gazette_ wants an editorial on the Musgroves, a year following Dick’s tragic death.”

Elizabeth blinked. “Ah! Yes. You. Well, I suppose we’ll have to take Penelope in your place, then, shan’t we?”

Penelope Clay, present head of the Chameleons’ fan organization, had been welcomed warmly into their inner circle, and Anne doubted she would refuse any invitation that Elizabeth offered. If one couldn’t win a hero’s heart by way of death-defying stupidity, outright adulation was an acceptable alternative. 

“I’ll stay with Mary for now,” Anne offered, but Elizabeth, her attention already gone forth to Penelope, paid her no heed. 

*

Anne was woken, rather earlier than she would like, by an urgent call from her Editor-in-Chief; “I wouldn’t ask otherwise,” she said, sounding near tears, “but Caro’s on maternity and Steve’s pretending he’s not cavorting in the Maldives with Supremo and I haven’t anyone else who I trust to cover the Admiral’s induction without making a hash of it. Will you, please?”

It was altogether less of an imposition than Anne might expect in the future; and besides, she had rather missed conducting her own interviews. The Admiral was a pleasant woman, big and booming, and answered Anne’s mild questions with ease. The only uncomfortable interlude was when the Admiral admitted to coming from a family of super-heroes, and offered: “You might have met my brother once—he trailed around the Kellynch League himself.”

“Oh?” said Anne with rising dread.

“He worked with Captain Worthy—oh, Captain Worthy that was, rather. Were you acquainted?”

Anne went pale—or rather, translucent. “In passing, perhaps,” she stammered. “But if I might ask another question instead…?”

*

Mary, as usual, was little help. “Well, you know it’s been a year since Dick died,” she said. “And truthfully, he ought to be back by now. I imagine we’ll hear of someone digging up his grave and subjecting it to unholy experiments any day now.”

“Mary,” Anne reproached, “I can’t put that in the paper, you know. I need something more along the lines of ‘gone but not forgotten’ or ‘ever alive in our hearts.’”

“Or maybe we’ll find a version of him from an alternate universe,” Louisa supplied cheerfully. Beside her, Henrietta tittered and Charles sent Anne a look of commiseration.

“Well, it’s almost time for the unveiling of Dick’s statue,” said Charles, getting to his feet. “Anne, you don’t mind staying behind and watching the boys? One of us would, except you know we’re primed for Dick’s body to be animated by a malevolent spirit and try to destroy us all, and the boys can’t control their powers yet in public.”

“Besides,” added Mary, “you’re the only civilian. You’re the only one they wouldn’t miss.”

“I suppose,” Anne allowed, but too late; the Musgrove Five—Four, now— had already left her behind.

*

She was occupied in convincing Charles the Younger to stop floating towards the ceiling when she heard footsteps approaching, and as the doors slid open, found herself confronted by the Musgroves and their new friend.

“This is the Captain, Anne,” Charles said by way of introduction, “Capital fellow, was with Dick on his last mission. Said very nice things in his eulogy—Why, Anne, you sure you’re feeling quite the thing?”

“Absolutely,” Anne replied with all the firmness she could muster. “A pleasure, Captain.”

“The same,” said Frederick shortly, and that was all; although she was assured of her invisibility, he avoided so much as looking in her corner for the rest of the night.

*

“A lovely man, really,” Mary remarked. “Would do very well for one of the girls, though Henrietta does have her understanding with Charlene Hayter to consider. Louisa, then.”

“Will he choose one of them, do you think?” Anne dared ask, and Mary shrugged.

“He should. He needs the publicity a liaison would bring; you know there’s nothing the civs love more than a wedding between the empowered. Just think, Anne, you could have the exclusive! No one would be so good at writing it as you.”

“That’s kind of you,” Anne murmured. 

*

“I hope you don’t mind,” the Admiral said cheerfully, “that I am imposing on you to get my thoughts out to the public. I’ve only been so out of practice giving interviews that I suppose I should stick to the one newspaperwoman I trust.”

Anne suspected that the Admiral’s sudden determination to break a career of silence to the press corps and now advocate passionately for recycling had less to do with a real concern for waste management and more sympathy at how delayed Anne’s piece on the Musgrove memorial was becoming. Nevertheless she could not find it in herself to make more than the most cursory objection, so that the Admiral smiled in satisfaction.

“There now,” she said warmly, “I knew you’d see sense.”

*

When Walter decided that a brisk autumn morning meant a fine time to decide to turn his skin aflame, it was left to Anne to coax him back to himself. Charles hovered behind her, calling anxiously to his son that Papa possessed the Earth Ring, did not Walter remember, and that grass _burned._

It was not the most convincing of arguments; but no more so was Anne’s stern reminders to behave. Walter only bounded closer, laughing, so that the tips of Anne’s hair sizzled, until—

Frederick stepped forward and plucked the boy up, a thin film of water shielding his fingers from harm until Walter tired of his mischief.

“Well done!” Charles called enthusiastically. “Was that a trick you learned on Enceladus, Cap?”

Frederick looked at Anne, and for one dreadful moment she knew they both remembered the night he’d avoided Madam Fly-trap’s poisonous skin by the self-same contrivance. “Something like that,” Frederick replied, his gaze distant.

*

It was testament to the agreeable nature of the Musgroves that they were amenable to stop by Anne’s workplace on their way to a rendezvous with Frederick’s old friends, Mary and the girls having first ensured that this did not really inconvenience them in any way. Anne was sorry for it, but her deadline beckoned, and besides any respite from the Musgrove Four’s headquarters was to be appreciated. While Mary threw herself upon a setter and bemoaned her aching feet, and Charles and his sisters declared themselves charmed with every detail of a civilian workplace, Anne reacquainted herself with her multitude of pending tasks. The offices of the _Gazette_ had not much changed in the few weeks she had been away, save for one or two new hires; Anne would have disregarded this, were it not that the new sports editor seemed prone to giving her admiring glances from behind his thick-rimmed glasses. Mary wheezed, “A _secret identity!”_ , Louisa and Henrietta giggled, and poor Anne could do nothing more than flush.

From perverse habit, she wondered how Frederick might react: but when she craned her neck around, she found him only frowning down at the desk that had been her own nine years past, lost entirely to his thoughts.

*

Frederick’s friends proved to be the recently bereaved X-Tremes, notable for the loss of the superheroine Phantom, cosmically discorporated for the ninth time. “Benny’s taking it badly,” noted Phantom’s twin brother Harville, simultaneously by a quirk of fate her great-great-grandnephew from an apocalyptic timeline, “though I’m not certain why. At least this time Fanny didn’t conjure his soul to perdition before she set the universe on fire.”

Indeed Master Benwick, scholar of the arcane, was understandably morose at his fiancé’s fate, and Anne admitted herself rather more sympathetic than not at yet another tale of love lost. She could entirely fault the rest of the party for tiring of his quoting of maudlin poetry, however, and was not entirely disappointed when Louisa proposed a friendly tourney of superpowers to divert their hosts’ minds.

Before he went to join the others in the Training Room, Benwick pressed Anne’s hands to his chest, and said fervently: “Bless you and your kind heart, ma’am.”

What pleasure it is to have one’s virtues named! Anne was so flattered she forgot to turn herself invisible, even when Frederick shouldered past Benwick with a scowl.

*

Louisa tumbled down, the Air Ring slipping from her finger in her carelessness, and at first all was silent. Then Frederick swore, low and desperate, and swooped towards her body; Charles followed, with Mary squawking a frantic counterpoint. 

Anne reached Louisa first, however, given the proximity of the visitor’s stands of the Training Room. A sea-monster—or a convincing image thereof—menaced her along the way, and she thought to snap over her shoulder for Henrietta to put an end to the simulation before someone else lost their head and leapt where they ought not.

“Fix her!” 

“I can’t! Dick had the Heart Ring— _that_ was what Heart was good for! You know, I’d wondered…”

Pandemonium would nothing to help. Anne reached for Frederick, shook him about the shoulders, and snapped; “Go for a doctor— Doctor Diencephalon, Doctor Time, anyone at all. Only go, go now!”

Frederick stared at her as though he had never seen her before. 

“Now!” Anne barked once more, with a force of will she could not recall feeling in the last near-decade. They might have been trapped once more upon a rapidly crashing rocketship, doomed to die unless they could correctly guess which button on the control panel would turn off the pernicious engine. Even then, Anne had been the one to decide that it would be the red or nothing: as must be obvious, she had been correct.

Frederick went.

*

To Anne’s undisguised relief, the best medics of the Kellynch League declared Louisa likely to make a full recovery. Even were it not for the bonds of family and friendship that connected them, she would have truly been sorry to see a promising young superheroine cut down in her prime—and for so avoidable a reason. At the very least multidimensional destruction ought to be involved.

Frederick and his sister walked her to the transport station, where she might be beamed up to the Bath Society’s watchtower. The Admiral kept up a steady stream of conversation, and seemed tactfully to ignore the preoccupation of her companions. Her farewell was sincere in its regret, and Anne might be more bolstered by this sign of friendship were it not for Frederick’s presence.

He said little to her, even as before, but she could no longer imagine he took no notice of her. She had, once more, the pleasure of his undivided attention—if only were it not due to gratitude for having saved the woman he now cared for. She said her goodbyes, and was answered in turn, and in a dazzling ray of light was taken up from her present location.

 _It is over,_ Anne reminded herself sternly, _and you must_ _think of it no more._

*

Among its many amenities, the Bath Society of Justice boasted a wide variety of company, and while Anne must suffer the presence of her father, sister, and the odious Penelope, Lady Wonder had made a rare visit for her goddaughter’s sake. Furthermore, the mysterious Sports Editor of the _Gazette_ revealed himself once, this time displaying the not-entirely-useless ability to multiply himself into the components of William, Walter, and Elliot—each of the three well-versed in combat. Much to the delight of both Anne’s father and Lady Russell, time and proximity had by no means dulled his interest in the pretty young editor he had previously encountered.

More pleasantly, Anne was delighted to find an old civilian friend also sheltering upon the Watchtower. Having rather sensitive information imprinted upon her brain, this Cassandra Smith was secured away from unfriendly eyes under the protection of the Society. This was surely the greatest comfort she could imagine—at least until she took a wrong turn about the winding hallways of the Watchtower and came across Captain Worthy.

The weather workings of the station, unreliable at best, had been unruly that morning, and so rain—or a very good facsimile of it—dropped from the ceilings. Anne had been hurrying along, attempting to keep as dry as possible when the sight of Frederick brought her to a standstill. She might have made herself very uncomfortable indeed, if Frederick had not brought the water droplets above them to form a makeshift umbrella.

He was uncomfortable, and so was she, but together they stumbled through the formalities. Harville had sent him ahead, fearing rumors of a spy in the superheroes’ midst and the subsequent instability, and desiring the Bath Society to have as much support as possible. “And that’s not all,” he added, “Miss Louisa would have me deliver wedding invitations on her behalf.”

At last the dread moment had arrived. Anne held herself very still and therefore was at least able to keep her composure when Frederick went on, unaware of her agitation, “It must be within six months at the longest. I wonder Benny didn’t talk her out of it for decency’s sake—but then again, he is sure his Fan will be delighted, once she’s in her right mind again. If nothing else, at least Louisa is not a clone impersonating her at a supervillain’s behest.”

Anne could only stare, and when Frederick anxiously apologized for surprising her so, murmured faintly that it was no trouble at all. 

Had he seen the viewing deck?—He had, and found it most lovely indeed. Had she, in turn, visited the holo-floor? —Of course, and been most agreeably engaged. Furthermore, she had the company of her dear Cassandra.

They might have continued in this vein, had they not been interrupted by William, Walter Elliot, or possibly all three combined, come to make sure his dear Annie had not been too badly discomfited by the weather. Having assured himself this was not so, he spirited her away; so masterfully, all in all, that she could do nothing but marvel at it.

*

“But I thought you _knew_!” cried Cassandra, looking quite distraught. “Knew, and didn’t mind it.”

“However should I?” Anne pointed out. It was not every day, after all, that one imagined that one’s putative suitor was in possession of a hitherto unknown fourth self used in acts of perfidy. 

“That dreadful Penelope Clay does, at least if the way she keeps sneaking about his quarters, and she’s such bosom-bows with your sister that surely….Oh! You don’t think—Anne, he’s not the man the Bath Society has been searching for?”

“I think it’s all too likely he is,” Anne said grimly, and reached for the general alarm.

*

Heroes dispatched, it was only left to Anne to sit helplessly at the viewing deck and wait. Harville, injured in Fan’s most recent possession by a cosmic force of chaos, was gentleman enough to company and sought to keep her mind occupied by a discussion of the relative merits of loving a civilian versus loving a fellow superhero.

“Now mind you,” said Harville gruffly, “my partner’s not dreamed of straying a day in his life. Benny, on the other hand—“

“Erm,” Anne felt the need to point out, “the communications channel is on--”

“Benny and my sister swore to love each other for all eternity, and yet they’ve been pulled apart by more forces that they can control. What good is to try and spend your life with someone if your responsibilities will always tear you away from t’other?”

Despite a lack of any significant powers, Anne knew she must count herself among the empowered rather than the civilians; and yet, however her own life might not prove much evidence to the contrary, she could not help but reply: “I cannot say who might love more or less, or whose happiness might last, but this much for myself I might claim: loving longest, when existence or when hope is gone.”

Harville being called away shortly thereafter meant that Anne did not have cause to think much of this conversation, at least until, some thirty minutes later, a transmission came through to the desk where she had fallen asleep:

 _I CAN LISTEN NO LONGER IN SILENCE,_ read the subject line, and mouth dry, Anne pressed the button to continue. 

*

All that remains is to speak of how the good ended happily, and the wicked unhappily.

William Walter Elliot and his paramour Penelope, their plot exposed, escaped into space, and while they might not have been brought to justice, it remains to be seen whether his cunning--in abandoning her on the nearest moon--or hers--in endeavouring to fall into the nearest vat of radioactive bath salts--might prevail in the end. Cassandra was rewarded by being allowed to resume her ordinary life; and Louisa by the discovery that Dick was indeed returned to her, following a temporary resurrection as space squid, in time to attend her wedding. Both Chameleons were gratified by the knowledge that the duplicitous Mrs Clay was soon replaced by a new head of their fan organization; and Lady Wonder and the formidable Admiral united in genuine pleasure to see them wed. 

As for Anne and her Frederick? Well, one need know only this to judge: that not two years following their marriage and partnership, Anne herself was inducted into the Kellynch League; for, as her devoted spouse argued despite Anne’s protests about her limited abilities, who better to keep them steady upon a course of doing good than the woman who had a steadier head on her shoulders than any other? Anne, having long since learned the benefits of succumbing to persuasion, could not help but agree; and so indeed they set out to chart their course together. 

**Author's Note:**

> Multiple quotes have been liberally borrowed from the original by Jane Austen, as well as references made to various superhero properties - if you recognize it, it’s assuredly an homage!


End file.
